


lost feeling of belonging

by murphamytrash



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: AU, Alternate Universe - Post-Apocalypse, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, it was supposed to be jonty but it was for class and im an Undercover queer, this is shit lol
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-15
Updated: 2015-12-15
Packaged: 2018-05-06 23:13:42
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,988
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5434418
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/murphamytrash/pseuds/murphamytrash
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jasper wakes up confused and in danger. His PTSD gets the best of him, sometimes, but now he knows that he'll be okay. He's safe here.</p>
            </blockquote>





	lost feeling of belonging

**Author's Note:**

> wrote this for class lol sorry

Jasper's eyes snapped open as he awoke with a start. He could've sworn he heard a noise. He shook it off, and rolled over to check the time. 4:37 am. He sighed, climbing out of bed to get a drink of water for his parched mouth. He passed his window, and had to do a double take. The city, his city, was in ruins. The sky was fire, the air was ashen. He whirled around, pulling on jeans and a t-shirt. As he was grabbing his pilot's goggles, Jasper's vision swirled as he realized exactly what was going on. It dawned on him that the scene he had witnessed outside of his bedroom window was Chicago being bombed. He ran to his door, only to touch his door handle and yank his burned hand back. There must've been a bomb nearby, the sheer force of it must've started a fire that had spread to his parent's house. He leapt back, cradling his burnt hand and tripping over a bundle of dirty laundry and falling on his back, dazed and in a panic. He tried to breathe, but it was as if his brain had shorted out. After what felt like years but was probably only about half a minute, he scrambled up and looked around. His only option seemed to be the window. Gulping down a deep breath, he gathered his wits and opened the window. Trying to be careful, he climbed over the sill and attempted to scale the wall before he heard a strangled scream and was so frightened that he tumbled down into the bushes in his front yard. He lay there dazed, for just a moment, before he heard an unidentifiable noise and felt a quake. He leapt to his feet, immediately regretting it. Some sort of aftershock hit, and it felt as if an unseen force was trying to yank the goggles from his grasp.  But he couldn't let go. He just couldn't. They were his father's, and after what had happened, this was all Jasper had left of him.  It felt worse than anything, and Jasper was thrown to the ground within an instant. The last thought he had before he blacked out was that he never got that drink of water.  

He awoke in the same place, on the same ground, and knew immediately that he was in danger. He jammed the goggles onto the top of his head and scrambled to his feet. He looked around, seeing a few people leering and sneering at him. Without a second thought, he took off running. He then heard a loud noise, and turned back to look. A piece of shrapnel hit the earth and Jasper looked around again, dazed. It had landed where he had been passed out mere minutes ago. He didn’t even want to think about what would have happened if he had stayed there even just a minute longer. As he stood, he realized that he was acutely aware of a throbbing pain in his shoulder. It began to feel more like a stabbing pain the longer he stood there, but he just couldn’t bring himself to move. Finally he tore himself away from the scene. Just as he did so, more bombs began to rain down. He sped up, and ended up full on sprinting. It was no use, though. He was thrown back into a building and hit his head, hard. He saw stars, but dizzily forced himself up. The wave of explosives seemed to be finished, but Jasper knew it wouldn’t be long before another started. He continued to walk as fast as he could without irritating his shoulder too badly. As he moved, the buildings seemed to grow more and more sparse.

He came to a long road, made muddy and even glue-like from the ever present rain. He trudged down it, and came to a door sticking up out of the ground. He knew what this was. He used to watch documentaries about wars when he was a kid; the History Channel was his favorite. He and his dad would bond over marathons about the Aztecs. This was a bomb shelter. Jasper pounded on the door desperately. He was cold and shaking, not to mention injured. The door finally opened, and he was regarded with disgust by an unfamiliar man.

“You’ve gotta let me in, sir. I’ve got nowhere to go,” he pleaded, ignored the disdainful looks he was getting from not just the man, but the rest of the people within the bunker, too.

“Get lost, kid,” the man grimaced, “there’s no room for ya here.”

Before Jasper could protest that yes, there was clearly more room, he was shoved away from the door and to the ground, once again. He landed on his bad shoulder, and it was all he could do to not cry out. Instead, he pulled himself up, and wandered into the woods a little ways up the road, ignored the black spots creeping in at the edges of his vision.

Jasper stumbled through the forest, steps growing sloppier. He was able to catch himself the majority of the times he stumbled, but every time he did fall, the pain jackknifed through his body once again, much like an electric shock. Jasper finally had a nice, soft looking, albeit wet and rainy, clearing in sight. All he wanted to do was lie down in it and sleep for about a year. He began to make his way over to it, but that was when he heard it. The crunch of leaves behind him. Jasper could almost feel the hulking presence behind him, and he froze mid-step. It was real this time, he was sure of it.

After his mother died from an unknown but debilitating illness and his father was murdered gruesomely, he had begun to see and hear things that everyone else said weren’t there. It was worsened when he was stabbed and mugged while walking home from school through the city one day. St. Louis was nowhere near as safe as he had originally thought, and he was seeing large, strange men with trenchcoats around every corner. He had eventually gone to see a doctor, where he was sent to a psychiatrist, where he was then diagnosed with several severe anxiety disorders. Post Traumatic Stress Disorder was just one of his numerous diagnoses.

Jasper was fully  convinced this one was real, though. He turned around, and that was when he saw it. There was no doubt about it. The man, if one could even call it that, was large and bulky, and smelled of ash and blood. Jasper bit the inside of his cheek so hard he could taste something metallic inside his mouth. Without wasting another precious moment, Jasper turned on his heel and took off. He was sure he could hear the stranger’s feet pounding on the damp soil. He knew the man was weighed down by all the fur pelts of the animals he had probably maimed and killed, but Jasper could tell he was close behind from the pure stink of his ripe body odor. His eardrums were filled with the sound of his pumping blood and his own panting breath. He thought he was going to make it, he truly did. His hopes died, however, when he felt something grab at the back of his torn and bloodied clothes. Jasper cried out as he felt blunt fingernails scrape at the back of his neck before grabbing hold of his shirt and yanking him back. He could feel his skin tear as a particularly sharp branch sliced his abdomen clean across. He knew it was a shallow laceration, but his vision still fogged up, his body threatening unconsciousness due to the sheer amount of pain it was in. Jasper fought it, though. His breaths were coming in and out too fast and too short, and he was fully aware that he couldn’t keep this up much longer. His vision was darkening and he felt as though his body was collapsing in on itself

The person was pinning him down, one of their hands covering his mouth in an attempt to muffle his screams for help. But help from who? He tried to let out one last mangled cry,  but his throat was rubbed raw at this point. His eyes were slipping shut, and the last thing he thought he heard was a girl yelling at someone to let him go, but he was sure he was imagining it this time.

Jasper’s eyes cracked open to someone with soft hands and a worried face tapping as his cheeks. He wanted to smooth away the crease in her forehead, it was unsettling compared with her sweet face. Her long blond hair was tickling his nose, and he tried to sit up and touch her face, but was restrained by both his own blinding pain and several other hands on his chest, urging him back down. He was barely there, silently resting at the peaceful moment that occurs right after waking. The pain was bringing him back to himself, though, and he whined in discomfort, surprised by the fragility of his own voice. His abdomen throbbed, his back ached, his legs burned, and his shoulder was the most painful of them all.

“Wh-what happened?” Jasper croaked out, clearing his throat. The nameless faces around him shifted around him, one in particular the most shameful. His face slowly turned pink. He had a slightly upturned nose, half lidded eyes, and his lips were pursed in regret. The girl with soft hands stepped forward instead.

“I’m Clarke,” she said in a hushed tone, most likely to help soothe Jasper’s pounding head, “Murphy attacked you, but your shoulder had already been dislocated. I fixed up your shoulder, and bandaged the wound on your torso.” She gestured to the boy with the upturned nose and shaggy hair, who had the decency to at least look a bit apologetic. Jasper was still pretty out of it, so he decided that he forgave Murphy.

“It’s okay,” he whispered before drifting off again. When he awoke once again, he was feeling much more like himself. He sat up without too much discomfort, and instantly locked eyes with Murphy for a tense moment before he turned and climbed out of bed, trying to steady himself on his feet, gritting his teeth when Murphy rushes over to steady him. With the other teen’s help, he manages to get out the door. When his eyes land on the group of kids around his own age, the ones that helped him in his time of need, he feels more unsteady than ever before, and this time it’s not because of his weak legs, which are strengthening as they get used to supporting Jasper’s weight once again. Jasper looked uncertainly up at Murphy, who stood at least two good inches above him. Murphy smiled at him reassuringly. Clarke glanced over, seeing the two of them out in the sunlight. She dashed over, along with more than a few of her bunkmates.

“Jasper! You’re awake!” She began to exclaim, but upon seeing Jasper’s face of wariness, she changed her tone, “it’s alright,” she assured him. Clarke began to introduce him to the others. She touched his arm tenderly, “Stay with us, Jas. You’re important and needed here, with us. We can teach you how to hunt and gather, and we even have an extra bunk. And I’ll make sure Murphy is extra sweet to you, but do you see that glare he has on? That means he likes you.” Without another moment’s hesitation, Jasper’s mouth broke into a genuine smile before he nodded and leaned into Clarke, burying his head into her shoulder. He would fit in here just fine, because for the first time in forever, he felt as if he truly belonged and was wanted somewhere.

**Author's Note:**

> come follow/bother/prompt me on tumblr!! (how do u hyperlink on this website???) puppermurphy.tumblr.com


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